I Need You, Augustus
by Jily.Love
Summary: Augustus is gone, and Hazel is all alone. But when she realizes that she's pregnant, she's torn- this child is her only remaining link to Augustus. On the other hand, death for her is inevitable.. should she really selfishly drag this innocent creature into the world?
1. Finding Out

Two weeks after Gus's funeral, and I still hadn't recovered at all. I slept a lot and threw up a lot. But these were normal side effects of cancer, so I wasn't too worried.

But then I realized that I hadn't gotten my period for almost two months. This wasn't unusual- the Phalanxifor messed with my body chemistry a lot. Still, a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach forced me to lug my body and oxygen tank out into the car.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mom said, standing up from where she had been pouring mulch onto her flowerbed. "It's almost eight already, Hazel. Where do you think you're going?"

I spewed some bullshit excuse about how I needed to clear my head, and that I'd be back by ten. "I just need some time, Mom."

She leaned in through the window, dropping a light kiss onto my forehead. "Drive save, honey."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Then I carefully backed the car down the driveway. As soon as I was out of sight, I floored it, heading for the nearest pharmacy.

* * *

Staring at the neat row of pregnancy tests, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If Kaitlin was here, she would know what to do- God knows she's had her fair share of experience with this kind of thing. But she wasn't here, and I was alone.

Finally, I chose a box from the middle and took it up to the register, where I tried not to make eye contact with the cashier, a gangly guy about my age.

"Here you go, ma'am," he ducked his head, blushing as I pushed a few wrinkled bills across the counter. "Have a nice night, now."

"You, too," I muttered, just wanting to get the hell out of there. As soon as I was back in the car, I dialed Isaac's number. "I'm on my way over," I warned him as soon as I heard his voice on the other end. Then I hung up, again willing myself not to cry.

_It'll be okay, Hazel Grace. Okay? Okay._

Gus's voice, again. After the funeral, I had started hearing his voice in my head. I didn't know if it was his idea of a sick joke from the afterlife, or if I was just going insane. Probably the latter.

* * *

"I need to use your bathroom," I told Isaac. "I'm sorry. I couldn't do this at home."

"Is everything okay?" Isaac's voice was concerned, and he reached out to grab my shoulder.

"It's fine, Isaac. Just fine. I just need to use the goddamn bathroom." My voice was tight and on the edge of hysteria as I pushed past him.

My hands trembled as I pulled the test out of the box. I peed on the stupid stick and knelt on the cool tile, trying to catch my breath.

Five minutes ticked by. Surely the test was done now, but I was terrified.

_Get it over with, Hazel Grace._

Cursing Gus under my breath, I turned and grabbed the stick. Two little pink lines.

"Fuck." I said it out loud this time. I was pissed- pissed at Gus for doing this and then abandoning me. Pissed at myself for being so stupid. Pissed at the world. Pissed at the cancer. "Fuck."

I could feel a full on breakdown coming, so I quickly stuffed the test back into the box and burst out of the bathroom. "Hazel?"

"Isaac, now's not a really good time. I'll explain later." I slammed the front door just because it felt good.

I drove aimlessly for a while. Somehow I ended up at Funky Bones, the night dark and quiet all around me. Without really thinking, I pawed through the trunk to unearth the old picnic blanket. It was a short walk to the sculpture, which was completely deserted.

My sobs couldn't be held anymore. Collapsing on the ground, my entire body shook. "Augustus, what the hell?"

Of course, there was no answer.

* * *

**Just an idea I had! If I get a positive response, I'll continue, so let me know if you liked it!**


	2. Hazel's Decision

**Wow. I was completely blown away by the response to the first chapter! Within 12 hours of posting the story, there were about 6 reviews and lots of favorites/follows too! So thank you so much! There are like 11 reviews now, so forgive me for not responding to each one individually.**

**And now, without further ado, I present to you... THE SECOND CHAPTER.**

* * *

I spent the night at Funky Bones. At about 5 a.m, my lungs woke me, screaming for oxygen. Of course. I struggled to my feet and tried to calm my racing heart as I shuffled back to the car for the spare oxygen tank that was always in the trunk.

When I could finally breathe again, I glanced at the sky. The sun was already rising, it's golden rays cutting hazy lines through the morning fog. It was beautiful, but I couldn't focus on the sunrise. I had bigger problems.

My cell was buzzing like an angry wasp. A call from the home number. There were twenty other missed calls, and I winced as I picked up.

"Hazel? Oh, thank God."

"I'm sorry Mom.. I just-"

I heard someone pick up the extension. "Hazel, where the hell have you been?"

"I'm sorry," I repeated, deciding apology was the best strategy.

"Get home. Now." His voice left no room for compromise. There was a click, and I was alone with my thoughts again.

* * *

"Hazel Grace Lancaster, where have you been?"

I hated the sound of my middle name. I was always Hazel Grace to Gus, and the use of that name by anyone else hurt my entire being.

"I just-"

"Hazel, I get that you're struggling. We both understand that. But you can't shut yourself off like this. You need to take care of your body, Hazel. Augustus is dead, Hazel. You need to understand that." Dad was pissed.

"Yeah, Dad, I get it. I'm highly aware that he's dead, thanks for the update!"

"Hazel, that's not what he means." My mother, always the peacemaker.

Instead of shutting my mouth, I turned on her. "What does he mean then, Mom? I can't think of another possible interpretation!"

"He means that you're here, and Gus isn't. You need to put yourself and your needs first, Hazel!" Mom was getting fired up too.

I could feel the tears building in my eyes. "You have no idea how hard this has been for me. Don't even pretend to know."

"Hazel, you don't think it's been hard for us? Watching you slowly wither away for the last four years? Watching your heart get ripped apart by this? It hurts us to see you hurting, honey." Dad had softened his tone a little. "You can understand that, can't you?"

"Yeah." My voice was nearly a whisper.

"Tell us, sweetie. You know you can tell us anything. Where were you last night?" Mom sat next to me on the sofa, leaning against my shoulder.

"I went to Funky Bones."

"Why?"

"I'm pregnant." The words exploded from my lips before I had a chance to think about them. "I needed to be alone."

Dad started laughing, laughing so hard he was gasping for air. "No, seriously, Hazel."

"I'm not joking." The laughter stopped abruptly.

I've honestly never seen my parents look so angry. Once, when I was about five, they were both upstairs sleeping when I snuck down into the kitchen. I systematically took all of the drinking glasses and dropped them on the floor. I had just started on the plates when they appeared in the doorway. That was the angriest I had ever seen them. And now? They looked like fire would come shooting out of their ears. But also sad. Or maybe disappointed. Maybe a combination of the three.

However, they didn't say anything. Maybe they were too in shock. But when I saw them exchange a look over my head, I knew the issue wasn't over. And for whatever reason (blame it on the pregnancy hormones if you must), I burst into tears.

"Hazel, sweetie, why don't you go rest?" Mom suggested calmly. "I'll come hook you up to your machine and you can take a nice nap. We don't have to talk about this right now."

I nodded through the tears and allowed her to take my hand, leading me upstairs like I was a little kid.

Attached to Philip, my BiPAP, air being forced in and out of my lungs, I was too tired to cry anymore. Instead, I closed my eyes and succumbed to sleep.

* * *

_Outside, a frigid wind blew. Snowflakes fell from the sky. But inside the house, the weather was the complete opposite. A fire roared in the fireplace, and the three figures on the couch sipped steaming drinks from ceramic mugs._

_One of the figures on the couch was a woman. Her hair was short, and an smirk danced across her mouth, as if there was a joke that the other two weren't in on yet. A cannula snaked around her neck into her nose, and an oxygen tank rested beside her._

_The figure next to her was a man with tangled mahogany hair. One arm rested on the back of the couch behind the woman's head, and he wasn't smiling, but it was obvious he was happy, based on the way his eyes sparkled. A prosthetic limb peeked out of the leg of his flannel pajama pants._

_The smallest figure was a little girl, light brown hair curling around her shoulders. She couldn't have been more than three, but there was a maturity to the way she held herself. There was a lightness, too- just like her father, she had sparkling eyes that showed the world how happy she was, how enchanted she was with life._

_They all looked happy. Not like life was easy- for them, life wasn't easy. But they looked happy. They were happy that they had all made it this far in life. Happy that while work wasn't the best and sometimes it was hard for the mother to breathe and for the father to walk, it hadn't stopped them. And they were happy that they had this chance to be together on a cold winter's night._

I woke up with tears streaming from my eyes, my tubes gunked up because of how much I had been crying.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, Mom was standing over me, holding a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich and carrot sticks. "Eat up," she instructed. "You need the energy." I could tell that she was trying to keep her voice level.

Normally I would argue about the carrot sticks, but today I ate them quietly as she unhooked me from Philip and attached my cannula to an oxygen tube.

"Family meeting downstairs, okay?" Listening to her say 'okay?' was another thing that made me wince. It had been a special, sacred word with Gus, one meant to show love and commitment. Now it hurt me, like I was being stabbed in the section of my heart devoted to Gus. "Hazel? Now."

"Yeah, sorry." I shook myself out of my stupor. "I'm coming."

* * *

By the time I made my way downstairs, they were both sitting on the sofa, leaving me to settle into the big armchair.

"So," Dad began. "You're pregnant." He's never really been one for beating around the bush.

"I am indeed." I tried not to sound too sarcastic.

"Have you thought about your options?"

"Only for like a straight 24 hours."

"And?"

I still hadn't really come to a conclusion. Despite thinking about my pregnancy for hours on end, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I wanted to minimize the casualties, of course, and thus I was pretty strongly anti-abortion, at least for myself. But to give birth would mean risking my health and also the health of the child, my child.

I tried to disappear into my mind, into that dark, velvety blue corner where I could be alone and think clearly. I even closed my eyes, knowing that this decision was one of the most important I would ever make.

To keep up the monotone of my crappy life, or to introduce my offspring to the crappiness of my life as well? When given that choice, it's pretty obvious, and most people wouldn't think twice.

But then I thought of the dream I had just had. The mother, father, and daughter sitting together. And more than anything, I wanted that. That feeling of happiness and satisfaction.

"I want to keep it." The words came out of my mouth, and I immediately knew they were true.

"Hazel.." Mom was using her 'Maybe that's not such a good idea' voice.

"What?" I demanded. "I've thought this through. It's my body and my decision."

Bad choice of words. They began ranting, telling me all the risks and problems that would come if I became a mother. Telling me that my health would just be more strained by the birth of my child.

Still, I stuck with my decision. "I'm keeping it. I really have nothing to lose, right?" My voice got quieter. "Think of it this way. I never thought I'd ever be a mother. It's just one of those things that you don't do if you have terminal cancer."

"I'm worried that you're trying to hold on to a piece of Augustus by keeping the baby." Dad found his voice. "And it won't help, it'll just hurt you more."

I sighed, sinking back into the armchair. Maybe he was right. But still... "I just feel like this is something I have to do."

"Then we'll be behind you every step of the way," Mom told me. A grin split her face. "Holy cow.. I'm going to be a grandma!"

* * *

**Again, thank you all so much for your support of this story! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, and maybe what you'd like to see in later chapters! *hugs***


	3. Telling Gus's Parents

**Short-ish chapter, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you for your incredible support!**

* * *

In retrospect, I realize that their reaction was completely inappropriate. Most parents, upon discovering their 16 year old daughter was pregnant, would go ballistic. Another Cancer Perk, I suppose. You're simultaneously treated older and younger than you actually are.

Of course, things were a little strained between us, even after their initial excitement. They were still happy, of course, but the fact that I was pregnant with my dead boyfriend's child put a bit of a damper on things.

I was already two months into my pregnancy, and I knew that I had the responsibility to tell Gus's parents. So I put on the yellow dress I had worn on the night of the broken trophies, brushed on a little blush, and walked downstairs.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" From Mom's tone of voice, I could tell that she wanted to be there for me. But it was something I had to do alone.

"I'll be fine. I might stop by Isaac's on my way back, all right?"

She nodded. "Don't be too late." She hugged me quickly, stiffly. How do you treat your daughter when she's pregnant and going to tell the father's parents?

Sitting in my car in Gus's driveway (I still thought of it as _his_ driveway), I took a moment to bow my head. I've never been particularly religious, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. "God, if you could make this all okay, I'd really appreciate it." My voice seemed too loud, abrasive, but I kept talking. "Um, I know this will be a shock to them but it would be great if they were supportive. I can't do this on my own." My prayer changed a bit as I realized that I wasn't talking to God, but to Gus. "Gus, please. They're your parents, could you please help me out here? Um, thank you. I.. I love you."

Biting my lip to fight back tears, I climbed out of the car with my oxygen tank and dragged myself up the front walk. _Might as well get it over with_, I decided, and raised a hand to knock on the door.

Before I could actually knock, the door swung open, revealing Mr. Waters. "Hazel!" He sounded genuinely happy to see me. "Come on in. What can we do for you?" Behind him, Mrs. Waters was stirring a pot of something on the stove. She waved, smiling, but her eyes were sad.

I took took a deep breath, trying to will my lungs to not suck. "I actually needed to talk with you guys. Can we sit down somewhere?"

They led me into the living room, and I took a seat on the sofa, Mrs. Waters next to me and Mr. Waters across from us in a recliner. "What's up, Hazel?"

_Just say it, Hazel, you can do it._ "You guys remember when Gus and I went to Amsterdam, right?" They both nodded. "Um, one day we ended up going back to his hotel room." They both nodded again, not really comprehending what I was saying. I steeled myself, then blurted it out.

"I'm pregnant."

Looking back, I wish that I had taped their reactions. Mrs. Waters gasped, her eyes wide, and all the color drained from Mr. Waters's face. I sat there, trying not to burst out laughing.

"Get out of our house." Mr. Waters found his voice. "What are you waiting for? Get out."

I couldn't move, I was so shocked. Mrs. Waters covered my hand with hers, protectively. "Honey," she spoke to her husband, "I think that's a little harsh, don't you? Why don't you go upstairs, and Hazel and I will discuss this."

When he was gone, she turned to me. "I apologize for his behavior, Hazel. He's going through a tough time now. We all are."

I shook my head. "It's fine. I completely understand."

She pulled me into a hug. "I wish you didn't understand, Hazel. You're young. You shouldn't have to understand this."

I felt tear welling in my eyes. She was right. I shouldn't know the pain of losing someone I loved. I shouldn't know the truth, that my child would possibly not survive, and that after it was born, I would most likely die. No one should know that pain.

"My husband is in a tough place right now, Hazel. He'll come around eventually. But in the meantime, I'll be there for you, all right?" I nodded. "And of course, after the child is born, we'd be more than happy to support you financially."

"Thank you," I whispered, hugging her. "That means a lot."

"Anytime, sweetheart," she told me. "Have a safe drive back, all right? That's my grand-baby you're carrying."

I mustered up a smile. "Will do."

I had planned to go to Isaac's house, so that's where I went. When he opened the door, I was already a mess of tears.

"Hazel, we have GOT to stop having these emotional meetings." He was concerned though, and led me inside. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Eventually."

"Then by all means, carry on with the waterworks." He pulled me onto the couch and I collapsed into tears on his chest.

"Let it out," he murmured. "It'll be all right, Hazel."

* * *

**Thank you all for your support! Don't forget to let me know what you like, and what I could improve. *hugs* Y'all are the best.**


	4. The Truth

The whole damn support group knew now, thanks to Patrick. Mom had told him, and then he had repeated it so loudly that everyone heard.

People have always stared at me; carrying an oxygen tank around exactly blending into the background. But since more people were finding out, and my bump was starting to show, it felt like everyone was always watching. Needless to say, it made me feel ridiculously self-conscious. Which was why I was slicking on tinted lip balm on Tuesday afternoon.

"Hazel!" Loudmouth Patrick practically screamed my name across the basement, making everyone's head snap towards me. All of them (those that had the energy, anyway) clustered around me, firing questions at a rapid pace.

"How are you?"

"Is the baby healthy?"

"Hazel, Hazel! Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Have you been taking your vitamins?"

"What do your doctors say?"

I tried to produce a smile that said "Hello, yes, please back away from the pregnant, cancerous girl!" But it didn't work, so I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose. Then I adopted a pathetic, weak voice. "Guys, can I s-sit down? I need to b-breathe."

Bad, I know. Pregnant times call for desperate measures.

The second my butt hit the seat, they all raced to sit down, and dead silence fell as I pretended to get my breath back.

"Hi, guys," I said finally, when the silence became unbearable. "Um.. How are you all?"

Patrick jumped in. "Hazel, I'm sure everyone wants to hear about you and the baby. Why don't you give us an update?"

I tried my best not to glare at him. The last thing I wanted to do was talk. "Um, okay.. I'm doing all right. I had an ultrasound three weeks ago, and they said the baby was healthy but that it wasn't growing very fast, which could be a problem later." I pretended not to see the sympathetic faces. "Um.. yeah. It's a little too early to determine the gender yet, but I'm having the 20-week ultrasound in about a month. And I have to go talk to my doctors tomorrow, so that's going to suck, because they're still pushing for an abortion. So.. yeah." I awkwardly trailed off as I realized I was rambling.

"As long as you think you're doing the right thing, we're happy for you, Hazel." Patrick was grinning, no doubt ecstatic that I was actually talking.

The rest of the session passed by in a blur. Without Isaac there (he had stopped coming after Gus died) everything was more boring and there was no one to exchange sarcastic breaths with.

At the end, Patrick tacked on a prayer for me and the baby. _The prayer for me won't be necessary after five more months_, I thought. _Because then I'll be gone._

I tried to get out as quickly as I could, but I got caught up in a crowd of well-wishers. I half expected them to make me sign autographs.

Finally, I managed to escape to the car. And I wasn't ready to go home yet, so I stopped at a coffee shop for orange juice and drove to Funky Bones.

* * *

It was shocking empty at the sculpture, just me and the gray sky. I picked a spot to sit on the ground and I took a sip of orange juice and I cried.

I cried for Gus. I cried for his smile and his eyes, and for the feel of his skin against mine. I cried for the way he spouted metaphors constantly. I cried for the way he brought me orange juice and cheese sandwiches and flowers and flew me to Amsterdam. I cried for his stupidly big heart, and the stupid amount of cancer that won out over his weak body.

It occurred to me that I had cried too much over the past few months.

I cried for my baby. I cried for it, and the way it would never know her mother or father. I cried for myself, and how I would never know my baby. I cried for my parents, and how they would have to find a life to live when I was gone.

I heard footsteps, and a lilting, childish voice ask, "Why are you so sad?"

When I looked up, my eyes bugged out of my head. It was the little girl who had tried my cannula at the mall, Jackie.

I tried to wipe my tears away and smile at the same time. "I miss someone I love a lot right now."

"Jackie!" Her mom was calling, already halfway to the parking lot.

"Don't be sad," Jackie whispered. She leaned in quickly and gave me a hug before running away.

When I saw her skipping across the field, I couldn't help shedding a few more tears, hoping and praying that my child would be just like her.

* * *

The next morning was sucky for many reasons.

1) I had to wake up early. Apparently the doctors were so ridiculously booked that our meeting could only happen at 7:30 a.m.

2) I hit my knee on the edge of the bathtub. Hard. A bruise was already forming as I limped over to my bed to get dressed.

3) I was sure the doctors would try to convince me to abort the baby.

4) The shirt I was planning to wear wouldn't fit over my baby bump.

5) I threw up. Twice. Thanks, unborn child of mine.

So I was in an understandably crappy mood as I curled up in the backseat of the car. And it only became more crappy as Mrs. Waters joined me in the backseat (Mr. Waters wasn't 100% on board with the whole baby thing) and added her forced pep to the journey.

"So, Hazel, how are you, dear?"

"Fine."

"Excited to be a mom?"

"Sure."

"And how are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"Has the morning sickness gone away?"

"Not really."

Finally, Mom turned around. "Hazel, show some manners."

"I'm tired."

She glared at me. Then, turning to Mrs. Waters, "I apologize for Hazel's manners. She's been pretty grumpy lately."

I felt rage bubbling in the pit of my stomach, but I was too tired to react. So instead, I leaned up against the window and closed my eyes.

* * *

Things didn't get much better. Dr. Maria greeted me at the door with a wide grin and a hug. But of all the doctors in the room, she was the only one who seemed positive.

Before I could take a breath, I was bombarded with information. Stuff like, "You have more of a chance at recovery if you abort the pregnancy" and "You don't really have the funds to raise a baby and take care of your own health."

To my surprise, my dad slammed his hands on the table, making everyone jump. He stood, and I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

"She said," he growled, "that she doesn't want an abortion. Okay?"

"Honey," my mom tugged on his sleeve. He shook her off.

"If Hazel wants to have this baby, then no one is gonna stop her. She's mature enough to make her own decisions. Is it gonna be easy? No. Is it going to threaten her life? Yes. But it's ultimately her decision, and you have to respect that."

I'd never seen him that worked up, but something in his speech had sparked a question. "Um.. How likely is it that I'll die?"

Mom gasped, and I felt bad. But I needed to know what I was up against, even if it meant facing the hard truth.

Maria slowly met my eyes. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Odds are 80-20 in favor of your death after the baby, Hazel."

Mom started crying.

"I'm still keeping it," I say calmly. "I'll die anyway, right?" My voice catches a little. "I'm all in."

* * *

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